


Let Sleeping Captains Lie

by ErRose



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Caretaking, Fluff, M/M, Matchmaker Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Mutual Pining, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 04:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErRose/pseuds/ErRose
Summary: Kirk over works himself and falls asleep just about anywhere other than his own bed. Spock takes care of him- purely for the well-being of the ship of course.





	Let Sleeping Captains Lie

It is simply a fact that Vulcans need less sleep than humans. This fact allowed Spock to wander around the _USS Enterprise_ while most of the crew slept. If Vulcans were prone to gossip, Spock would have at least a little bit on just about everyone; it also meant that he knew that Captain Kirk worked too much. Even when he was off duty he was working. He checked up on the crewmen to make sure everyone was happy and well, worked with Scotty to learn more about the mechanical workings of the ship; any time anyone needed help, Jim was there. He stayed up too late reading reports and writing reports of his own. His rare allowance of fun was playing chess with Spock; even that was an exercise in tactics, planning, and reading your opponent.  
While making his rounds, Spock noticed the lights on in a briefing room that should have been empty. He stepped up to the door and it slid open; he should have known. Captain Kirk looked up from his work and beamed at Spock.  
“Mr. Spock, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,”  
“Are you in pain, Captain?”  
Kirk’s smile stayed firmly in place “No, I’m quite alright,”  
“Captain, it is late. Perhaps you should get some sleep. You will need your rest”  
“I will in a few minutes, Mr. Spock. I have a couple more things I need to finish up here. You have my word, I’ll be counting sheep in no time,”  
Spock was used to the captain’s idioms, but they still often puzzled him, nevertheless, he accepted it as a promise to sleep soon.  
Spock continued his lazy circling of the ship. Stopping occasionally to check in on night crews in different areas. He stopped into one of the science labs to observe the progress of an experiment, but he could tell by their stiff body language that they were made uncomfortable by his presence. He remembered being in their place and how he had hated when his superiors were constantly looking over his shoulder, as if they didn’t trust he was doing it right.  
“Keep up the good work,” he said as he exited the room and he could hear their sighs of relief.  
After about an hour, he made his way back to where he last saw Jim. The lights were turned off, so he assumed Jim had gone to bed, but with Kirk, one could never really be sure. It wouldn’t entirely surprise him to find Jim working in the dark just to make Spock think that he had gone to bed. As he stepped up to the door, he stood up straight and prepared to tell Jim how bad it was for his eyesight to be reading in the dark. It slid open with a hiss but before he entered, he noticed him. He was still sitting at the briefing table, but instead of sitting up working, he was slumped over the table, his face softly illuminated by the light of the PADD. He could have stared at his sleeping form forever. He briefly considered shaking the Captain awake, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb this picturesque scene.  
He strode down the hall, hearing the hiss of the doors closing and hoping it wouldn’t wake Jim. From his own room, Spock picked up the blanket from the top of his bed, folded it neatly, and tucked it under his arm and made his way back to the briefing room where Jim slept. In the corridor, he crossed paths with Dr. McCoy.  
“Doctor,” Spock said with a nod.  
“Mr. Spock,” McCoy returned. As they passed, McCoy stopped dead and turned on his heel. “What is that?”  
“It’s nothing, Doctor, I assure you,”  
“Well it doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like a blanket,”  
“Yes I… I got chilly,”  
McCoy’s ever present frown deepened. He didn’t buy it, but would let it slide. Spock had secrets. That’s just the way it was.  
“Yeah, well, stay warm,”  
“Thank you, Doctor, I will,” He said as he left the confused doctor staring after him. Spock repressed a smile that he was glad McCoy couldn’t see as he stepped up to the door. As it opened, he whispered into the room mostly empty room, “Computer, keep lights off,” He wasn’t sure it would work, the lights were motion activated and turned off automatically after ten minutes of no movement within. He stepped into the room and to his great relief the lights stayed off. He unfolded the blanket and draped it over the captain’s shoulders. He stirred only slightly, pulling the blanket closer to him. Spock smiled fondly at Jim, and quietly left the room. 

 

Jim woke up from a dream of laying in Spock’s arms. Absurd and irrational, but also lovely. When he tried to sit up, his back and neck were in incredible pain and the lights turned on so bright he felt like he would be blinded. Slumped over a table was not an ideal sleeping position. He straightened himself out the best he could and stood up and a blanket fell to the ground and a chill ran through him _Odd_ he thought _that certainly wasn’t there when I started_. He picked it up and knew- it smelled of Spock.  
It was still hours until he needed to go back on duty, so he draped the blanket over his shoulders, and walked back to his quarters. He passed a very confused Bones in the hall who couldn’t seem to stop staring at the blanket. Back in his own space, he pulled the fabric up to his face again, inhaling the scent of Spock. It would need to be returned soon and he wanted to get as much use as possible from it. After undressing, he curled into bed, hugging the balled up blanket close to him.  
The next morning he reported for duty on the bridge, still rubbing the kink in his neck. Spock of course, was already there.  
“Sleep well, Captain?” he asked with his eyebrows raised high.  
“As a matter of fact, Spock, I did. Right off to bed as soon as you left, just like I promised,”  
Spock quirked an eyebrow, to let Jim know that he knew that it was a lie.  
After a short while on the bridge, he stood and walked towards the elevator, the kinks in his neck and back were becoming unbearable. “I’ll... be right back. maintain speed, Mr. Sulu,”  
He arrived at med bay and told an unsympathetic Bones of his ailments.  
“Jim, I’m a doctor not a masseuse,” Bones complained. “Next time, try sleeping in your bed,”  
“That’s not a very good prescription for my current ailment,”  
“Look, Jim, I can give you a weak muscle relaxer this one time. But I’m not going to do it every time you over-work yourself and fall asleep where you shouldn’t,”  
“The doctor is quite right, Captain,” Spock entered the room, needing a signature from Bones on what looked to be a rather unimportant report. Kirk was beginning to feel as though he was being followed. “A bed is the most reasonable place for you to sleep without waking up injured. You have been 3.6% less efficient than normal today; likely due to your muscle pain,”  
“A couple of squawking mother hens,” He muttered after receiving the shot of medication, and strode back in the direction of the bridge. 

 

Spock leaned on the doorframe of the conference room with his arms crossed over his chest and started at Jim with his eyebrows raised high-a playful accusation. Jim didn’t even notice him for several minutes, but when he finally looked up, Spock noticed that his eyes were bloodshot.  
“Captain I really must insist-”  
“You really mustn’t, Mr. Spock. I know what you’re going to skawk-I mean say,” he smiled wryly at the first officer. “I’ll be cozied up in bed in ten minutes. Scout’s honor,” he said with a hand over his heart.  
Spock walked over to the table across from where Jim was seated, put his hands flat on the table and towered over him. A menacing look flashed across his eyes. “Captain, I will be back here in twenty minutes. If you are still working by then, I will not hesitate to have Doctor McCoy come with a hypospray full of sedative,”  
He watched as Jim as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and he shifted in his seat. Spock hoped that that was sufficient enough to get him to get some sleep without needing to involve the doctor.  
Twenty minutes later, after giving the doctor fair warning that he might need his medical expertise to get Jim to sleep, he returned to the conference room. Kirk’s face was propped up on his hand, but there was no doubt that he was sleeping again. Spock sighed and looked at the Captain. He looked so young. He could imagine Jim as a young academy student, taking too many classes and never getting enough sleep. He had told Spock about his academy days- about Finnegan’s tortures and the late night cram sessions and study groups with anyone who would put up with him. But somehow, that Jim had always seemed so far removed from this James T. Kirk, captain of the USS _Enterprise_. But sleeping here, with the weight of captaincy lessened by rest he could almost reconcile the two.  
He leaned over and lightly touched his forearm.  
“Captain, you need to go to your quarters,”  
Jim stood and swayed in place, eyes still mostly closed. He reached out and planted his hands on Spock’s chest so he didn’t tumble forward. After regaining his balance, Spock peeled the hands off his torso and led Jim with a light grip on his tricep. Kirk was still unsteady and leaned heavily into Spock before slipping his arm around his waist and resting his head against his shoulder. This was how they looked when they nearly walked into Doctor McCoy. He didn’t comment, but he pursed his lips and looked at Spock, a question in his eyes.  
“Conference room,” Spock shrugged and suppressed a grin.  
McCoy rolled his eyes and they both went their separate ways.  
“Spock?” The Captain said, voice thick, clearly still mostly asleep  
“Yes, Captain?” Spock answered indulgently, how one might speak to a small child.  
“You know everything, right?”  
“I endeavor to learn as much as I can in my given lifespan, but no, Captain, I do not know _everything_ ,”  
“Oh,” he paused “well did you know that you’re my favorite person on this ship?”  
“Jim, you’re exhausted,”  
“No no, it’s true. Bones and Scotty and Uhura are all great, but you’re the best,”  
He saw no point in arguing with the captain, he was sure he wouldn’t remember any of this anyway. The door to Jim’s room slid open and Spock helped him sit down on the bed. Jim, however, had no intention of letting go. He held onto Spock like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. He had a remarkable amount of strength for a man who couldn’t even keep his eyes open. He finally wrenched his fingers away from his waist, Jim reached behind himself, grabbed the collar of his uniform and his black undershirt and yanked them both over his head; Spock helped him unlace and pull off his boots. To Spock’s great relief, he left his pants on and curled into a ball. Spock picked up the blanket-his own blanket- that had been knocked to the floor and covered him. He was once again struck by how young and innocent he looked in his sleep. He turned to leave but stopped short when he heard Jim’s voice, half a whisper.  
“Spock, do Vulcans have lullabies? Or bedtime stories?”  
“No Captain,” Jim, eyes closed entirely, frowned “however, my mother was of Earth. So, I may have heard the same stories as you did,” this made Jim smile contentedly.  
Spock went to his own quarters and reflected on those stories and remembered the sound of his mother’s voice until he fell asleep. 

Jim woke in his own bed, which was strange because his last waking memory was in the conference room, trying desperately to keep his eyes open. He must have been more than half asleep when he stumbled his way back to his quarters. For the second night in a row he dreamt of Spock. This time he dreamt that Spock held him close and told him children’s stories, and hummed lullabies. It was peaceful and beautiful, but it made it that much harder to wake up to an empty bed, knowing it was all just a dream. He would never- _could_ never- put Spock in that position. He would never force him to peel back the Vulcan layers of himself to reveal his deep feelings about him- good, bad, or neutral Jim still wasn’t sure. He knew that Spock considered him a friend, which was more than most could hope for, but he would keep thoughts of something more to his dreams.  
He still had time still had plenty of time before he needed to be on the bridge, but he showered, dressed in a clean uniform, and made his way in that direction anyway. He stepped onto the bridge to a sleepy round of “good morning, Captain”s. He settled into the comm chair and began preparing for the day when he felt a hand pat him on the shoulder.  
“I guess that’s my cue to turn in for the night. Or day I guess,” McCoy’s familiar draw came from behind him.  
“Night shift getting to you, Bones?”  
“Not as much as day shift seems to be getting to you. You need to sleep Jim,”  
“I’m fine, Bones, I promise,”  
“I’m prescribing a full night sleep. Eight to ten hours, no less. We can take care of everything here for that long. Doctor’s orders,” he started walking back to the elevator. The doors opened, and Spock stepped out “if you don’t cooperate, I’ll send Spock to take care of it,” he said with a funny inflection in his voice. Somewhere between teasing and warning. But what did Spock have to do with it? He couldn’t have possibly known about the dreams or blanket. Could he? He shook off that unsettling thought and turned his attention to Spock.  
“Mr. Spock, I’m curious; do Vulcans tell their children bedtime stories? Or sing lullabies?”  
Spock hesitated, searching Jim’s expression.  
“No, Captain. They don’t. But my mother was human, so I did hear some tales from earth,”  
“Probably the same ones I knew, then?”  
“It is very probable, sir,”  
Kirk smiled, trying to picture Spock as a little boy, always half of what he should be. Vulcans likely considered him too human, and humans would have considered him too alien. Never fitting in anywhere. Nowhere but here. Standing next to Jim, first officer of the _Enterprise_. Kirk liked him just like this. No more, no less. 

 

“Mr. Spock, I believe you’ll find what you’re looking for in my sick bay,” McCoy said wryly.  
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,”  
“Jim,” McCoy said, as if it was obvious, “he’s in sick bay”  
“Doctor, is he okay?” Spock asked, taking a step toward McCoy, his neutral facade slipping in favor of something nearing panic.  
“Yeah, Spock he’s fine. I called him in for a physical about an hour ago. I sat him down, and turned around to get my equipment. By the time I turned back he was already sound asleep. If you’re able to, maybe you can bring him to his quarters again,”  
“Again, Doctor?” He asked, pretending he had no idea what McCoy was referring to.  
“Spock, you can admit that you care. Vulcan or not, it won’t kill you,” his usual gruff voice was replaced by something almost soft.  
“Of course I care, Doctor. His well-being is central to the well-being of this ship,” Spock’s carefully constructed facade was back in place.  
McCoy rolled his eyes, “Alright, sure. Well can you get ‘the well-being of the ship’ back to his own quarters. He’s taking up a bed that someone might actually need because they’re sick, not because they don’t get enough sleep,”  
“Certainly, Doctor,”  
“And remember what I said this morning. Eight to ten hours. At least. If there’s an emergency, we’ll get him, but anything short of that Scotty and I can handle,”  
“I'll do my best, but once he is in his own quarters, I have no way of knowing how long he’ll sleep for,”  
“Right, of course. Thank you, Mr. Spock,”  
Spock turned and made his way to sick bay. It was nearly empty; only one other bed was taken. Spock was a confused as why McCoy had been so eager to kick Jim out, but he supposed he must have his reasons. The captain was laying on the hard bed in his black undershirt and pants, and his shoes which look like they had been carelessly kicked off, laid on the floor by the foot of the bed. Spock tried to wake him with a hand to the shoulder, but Jim didn’t even stir. It didn’t seem like there was any other option.  
He scooped the sleeping captain up in his arms and watched as he nuzzled his face into Spock’s chest, right where his heart would have been had he been fully human. Jim breathed in deeply and a ghost of a smile played on his lips. His hands instinctively went around the back of his neck. Once settled, Spock began to walk- keeping a slow and even tread so as to not wake him- to the Captains quarters. Kirk mumbled nonsense and settled deeper into his arms. Illogically, Spock felt his heart swell with affection. He had the urge to bend his face down and kiss his forehead, but he pushed that illogical thought from his head. He stepped up to the captain’s room and almost walked into the door. It should have opened as soon as long as Kirk was with him. He stood there for a moment, helpless. As long as he held Jim in his arms, he couldn’t do anything. Logically, he needed to put him down. Logically, it should be somewhere comfortable so he didn’t wake up. There was only one logical place that he had access to.  
He made his way back to his own quarters, trying to convince himself that this was the only rational thing to do. Surely his own bed would be comfortable enough for Jim to lay in until he could get the door unlocked. He would get to his room, put Jim down, and call Scotty. It was the right thing to do. He would have Scotty open the door no matter what. However, when he put Jim down, he immediately settled under the blankets as easily as if it was his own bed. And Scotty was probably asleep anyway. Wouldn’t be logical to just let them both sleep?  
Spock changed out of his uniform and sat in his chair, and his mind ran in circles, trying to decide the logical path to take. He stared at Jim again, watching his chest rise and fall in rhythm. He couldn’t force himself to risk waking Jim, so he finally made the decision to let him sleep. Then came another decision to make. Where would he himself sleep? He needed to sleep if he was going to be at top efficiency tomorrow, but would it be appropriate to sleep next to the captain? As he sat trying to make the decision, Jim started muttering. He wasn’t sure how awake Jim was, but he was certain he heard the words “Spock, come to bed,”. He froze. Jim grinned and patted the bed, though his eyes were still closed. Spock slowly stood and walked to the bed. He sat on the edge, as if still unsure of what to do. He felt Jim’s hand reach out and hook onto his waist. He grumbled unintelligibly again, and tried to pull him down onto the bed. Spock uncurled the hand, only to feel the other hand come up onto his other side. Spock relented a little and pulled his feet up to the bed and sat cross-legged. Jim pulled himself over and put his head on Spock’s leg.  
Spock looked down with an affection that he was still unused to allowing himself to feel. With Jim, he simply couldn’t block it out or push it down, so he did his best to hide it. However, in private moments, he allowed the feeling to flood his system if only for a short time. It pulsed through his veins and made him feel like maybe he did actually belong somewhere. No more halfs, no more inbetweens- just Jim. But he was first officer. Relations were technically allowed according to regulations, but there were rules to be followed, and Jim never thrived under rules.  
He leaned back, resting his head on the wall behind him. His eyes started to try to force their way closed. He fought them with everything he had. He wanted to stay awake, just a little while longer; he wanted to continue to feel the sensation of Jim’s hands, constantly moving up his arms and across his chest, occasionally grabbing a fistful of his shirt, exposing hair there. His legs twisting around Spock’s. Jim’s head, however, never moved. It was planted on his lower left rib cage. Right above his heart. He could feel it thrumming and was almost surprised that it didn’t wake the Captain.  
Ever so gently, he placed a hand over the fist on his chest. His heart began to slow and his breaths deepened. At that moment, the whole universe, in all it’s great expanse, wasn’t big enough to hold his love- that irrational, illogical emotion that he had somehow allowed to permeate his exterior. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Jim and allowed it to take over his mind. 

Kirk thought he was awake, but that didn’t make sense. He must be in a very vivid dream. It made sense that he would dream of Spock. He had had similar dreams the past two nights, why not make it three? Last he could remember, he was in sick bay and Bones was about to look him over. But now… now he was in bed-but not his own- and there was a hand draped over his waist, fingers smooth on the bare patch of his back where his shirt had risen. His hand clutched onto Spock’s shirt, straining (and popping) some buttons to reveal the carpet of chest hair beneath. Spock’s legs entwined with his own drawing them hip to hip. Kirk couldn’t help but stare. Even if this was a dream, it was an image he wanted to save forever. Spock was beautiful in sleep. In sleep, his subconscious must be allowed to run free- to give him dreams and fantasies no matter how illogical. Kirk wished he could see into his mind, to know what a Vulcan dreamt of. He breathed in and allowed the smell of Spock to flood his senses. Nothing outside of those doors mattered. Hell, nothing outside of that bed mattered. Just him and Spock alone in their own cozy little universe. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance and gently kiss those sleeping lips, but he settled for pressing their foreheads together.  
After a few minutes, Spock began to stir. Kirk was sure that as soon as he began to wake up, Spock would pull back, jump out of bed, do anything to get out of the comfortable embrace. Instead he did something entirely unexpected. He pulled Kirk even closer. The hand on his back brought him in so there was no space between them. His legs curled and tightened and he was sure Spock would feel his morning hardness, and was surprised to learn that it was not a solely human trait. He nuzzled his face into Kirk’s neck and planted a kiss on his collarbone. Kirk put a hand on the back of Spock’s neck and they held each other tight-for a moment or for eternity, neither could be sure. Time seemed to pass differently in this tiny pocket universe that was Spock’s quarters.  
Eventually, Kirk sighed “I don’t even know what time it is. I have to get to the bridge,”  
“Captain, Doctor McCoy recommended eight to ten hours of rest. It has only been 8 hours and 12 minutes,”  
“So what you’re saying is that we have just under two hours to do… anything we want,”  
“One hour and 48 minutes. But yes essentially. I would recommend more rest for you,”  
It suddenly all clicked into place. He had been too exhausted to see the obvious. Of course it was Spock taking care of him. The blanket, the dreams, McCoy’s snide comments. The past three nights, Spock had quietly shown his love for Jim.  
“I’ve rested enough. Thank you, Spock, for everything,” he gently placed his hand on Spock’s face, before fully closing the distance and bringing their lips together.  
“I just have one question: was it your intention all along to seduce your superior officer? You bring me back to your room and have your way with me?” Kirk teased while running his finger along the long curve and up to the peak of Spock’s ear.  
“I assure you, Captain, my intentions were quite innocent. Very simply, your door wouldn’t open. I didn’t want to wake Mr. Scott, so I brought you here and you clung to me like an octopus. And besides you seem to be the one having your way with me. Not the other way around,” he managed to get out in between kisses and nips to the neck.  
“Who me?” Kirk finished the job of unbuttoning Spock’s buttons. “Mr. Spock, I assure you, I would never do something like that,” he reached his hand in between them and palmed Spock’s dick. Spock blushed a light green, encouraging Kirk that they were on the same page. “Think of the rules,” he lightly kissed him. “Think of the regulations,” another kiss, longer and harder this time. “And I have always been one to follow the rules,” A low throaty laugh escaped from Spock. It surprised Kirk- he had never actually heard Spock laugh before- but he didn’t let it stop him from showing his affection.  
“Jim, I’m not sure I can remember a time when you _did_ follow the rules,” pulling the captain closer.  
“Maybe you’re right,” Kirk said, melting into Spock’s arms, and desperately tried to memorize exactly how this moment felt. 

Spock was naked and breathless as he laid in bed staring in total disbelief at Jim. His humanity was always more difficult to manage in the early morning while the haze of sleep still clouded his Vulcan mind, but on this particular morning, he didn’t mind it. He could hardly believe that any of the past 9 hours and 36 minutes had happened. They needed to get to the bridge soon, they both knew that, but neither of them could bring themselves to leave. When they left, how would they continue on as if nothing had happened? Would they inform Starfleet of their relationship right away? Was this as serious to Jim as it was to him, or was it just another of the Captain’s flings? These questions and more plagued his quickly clearing mind and made him want to burrow deeper under the covers with Jim and never leave the bed. But it had to be done. Spock peeled himself away with mild protests from Jim. As Spock headed to shower, Jim made a snide comment about saving water and taking one together that elicited an eyebrow raise out of him. Together, they made their way to the bridge, hands brushing between them as they walked.  
“Mr. Scott, a word please,” Spock said as they passed him in the hallway.  
“Aye, sir?”  
“The door to the captain’s quarters wouldn’t open last night. Please look into remedying that,” Scott looked confused.  
“Captain’s quarters was locked on McCoy’s order. Said something about a quarantine,”  
“Thank you. I was unaware that Doctor McCoy had ordered a quarantine. I will speak to him about it,”  
“That’s strange,” He heard Jim mumble. Spock wasn’t so sure it was strange. He considered the doctor’s words the night before. Trying to get him to admit his feelings, telling him to make sure Jim slept as long as he needed to- this all felt like a plot rather than coincidence. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he saw McCoy on the bridge- kill him, or thank him. He would find out soon enough.  
“You two both look well rested,” McCoy teased as they stepped out of the elevator. Jim sat in the comm chair, and Spock walked to where McCoy stood. He noticed an almost imperceptible twinkle of fear begin to edge out to look of smug amusement he sported.  
“Doctor, you should know that thanks to you, the captain got a full night sleep in bed. Not his own, but you knew that already. Exactly what happened that his quarters needed to be quarantined so quickly?”  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the doctor said, the smug look returning, “but I’m glad you both had a pleasant morning,”  
“Thank you, Doctor… for making sure that the Captain got enough rest,” it was the best thank you he could manage given the current circumstances. The doctor grinned and walked back to the elevator. As Spock passed by the captain, glanced at the PADD in the Captain’s hands and recognized the form for relationships between officers. He stood next to the chair for a moment and they shared a secret look and briefly touched hands. A promise to repeat this morning for many mornings to come.  
Perhaps their pocket universe existed beyond the confines of Spock’s bed. Perhaps it followed them. It simply existed whenever they were together. It was illogical, but Spock could live with that.


End file.
